


1973

by ATaleOfTwoCaitlins



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek POV, Memories, remeniscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 13:30:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2311334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATaleOfTwoCaitlins/pseuds/ATaleOfTwoCaitlins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You drank whiskey on the rocks with a twist, and I drank gin and tonic, and we danced like nothing else mattered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1973

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd told me a year ago that I'd hear a James Blunt song and then drabble a fic in my bed, on my phone, /in first person/ based off of it, I would have slapped you with a wet fish. 
> 
> But, here I am.
> 
>  
> 
> Based on the song 1973 by the gloriously annoying yet oddly endearing James Blunt, not actually set in the year 1973. I would tag for Major Character Death, and let me know if you think I should, but honestly I don't think it needs it. Do with that what you will.
> 
> ~Cat

I remember that bar so, so clearly. It was dingy and disgusting and the jukebox barely worked. It'd play the same song three times over and then the next one would skip like hell- you never cared, though. You'd sing along every single time.  
The waiting staff weren't friends, they were family. They knew us. Knew what we drank, and when. You'd have a whiskey on the rocks with a twist, and I'd have a gin and tonic. You always told me it was a drink for middle aged brokers and lonely men. Maybe you were right. They saw the way I looked at you, the way I'd watch you when you laughed, and even when you were just staring into nothing or twirling your straw around in your drink, haplessly stabbing at the ice. They saw it. I don't think you ever did. 

 

I miss laughing with you. Staying out in that bar until closing time- that one night Boyd gave us the keys and told us to lock up ourselves when we were done. We didn't leave till damn near 4am that time. Neither of us wanted to, but you were falling asleep against the bartop, slumping over and fighting to keep your eyes open. God damn, your stupid eyes. I always told you they were the same colour as your whiskey, and you always laughed, no matter how many times I said it. I must have told you a thousand times what the colour of your eyes reminded me of. I never told you enough, though. Never enough. 

 

You fell asleep in my car that night. I dropped you off at your dad's house, carried you to the door. He took you from me, careful so as not to wake you up. You slept like a log, man. Always did. But you really were worn out that night.  
My favourite night was the simplest, though. It was June. We went to the bar. You drank whiskey on the rocks with a twist, and I had a gin and tonic, we sang to the same songs on the jukebox, we danced after everyone else left and we laughed until every muscle ached for us to stop. You know you've laughed hard enough when your body would actually prefer to feel pain. I know damn well I'd rather have the laughter now. 

 

I loved that night so much because it was simple. So, so simple. Everything fell into place. I was with you, and I felt like I belonged. I haven't belonged in a long time. I remember falling, a giggling mess onto your shoulder during that Elvis song, you singing Burning Love in the accent and everything. I remember I mumbled that I loved you under my breath, and you stopped singing. You looked at me, eyes half lidded, and you smiled like I'd never seen you smile before. Like you weren't just entertained, or laughing for that one moment in time. You smiled like you could smile forever, like you were done and nothing could make you any happier than you were in that second. And that's how I knew you loved me too. You never said it, and you didn't have to. I knew. From that smile, that moment, I knew. 

 

I still go back, sometimes. I sit in our old spot, and listen to the jukebox jump over that old Elvis song again. I think about how much I miss you sitting beside me, your elbows brushing against my own, your knees jittering as your feet bounced restlessly against the footrest of your stool. I sit and drink whiskey, on the rocks, with a twist, and I think about how you always told me you wanted each night to be your forever- you said that every damn night. 

 

'This night could be our forever. I'd like that. I'd like that a lot.'

 

I wish it could have been. God, what I wouldn't give for that to be forever. You never got to have a forever at all, and I don't want one without you. And so I will sit here, in this bar, and drink whiskey, on the rocks, with a twist, and I will imagine all the things we would have done together. It doesn't feel right to do any of them without you here to do them with me. 

 

I miss you, Stiles. So, so much,

**Author's Note:**

> Ambiguous endings are my crack. I like people to have their own ideas. You can decide on what happened, where the relationship went etc. It's all up to you.


End file.
